Warmth
by Chuui
Summary: He had always been the source of her warmth. Royai. One-shot. Written for Royai Week.


**A/N: This was written for the Royai Week prompt _Warmth_.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.**

* * *

It was always much too cold in her room.

The window had been broken for years and she could never find the will to ask her father to fix it. Instead, she always amassed all the blankets in the household and tucked herself in so tightly the frigid air would never reach her.

Everything changed when _he_ showed up. The winter months came and all the extra blankets went to him, leaving her with two thin blankets of her own that did nothing to shield her from the algid air.

He wasn't exactly her friend, but they had been together for a couple of months and had regular conversations. She decided to ask him if he could do anything about her window. He took a look and tried a couple things but nothing seemed to ease the frame back into place. Humiliated, he had to give up. Instead he offered his blankets to her, to which she declined repeatedly. The windows in the guest room were rickety as well. He probably needed to keep all the blankets he had.

Somehow, she had ended up in his bed that night, cloaked in five blankets. He had most likely suggested it as a joke, but when she agreed he was so flustered he couldn't turn her down. They agreed to sleep back to back, each of them pressed to opposite ends of the bed. She couldn't help but notice the vast difference in temperature of her room to his. She realized it wasn't just because of the blankets, the boy sleeping next to her felt like he was radiating heat. She slowly inched towards him and barely pressed her back up against his, praying to some God that he didn't wake up.

As she suspected, he exuded heat from his body, as if he was a human furnace. She immediately felt a wave of calm rush over her entire being. She decided from that day, she didn't want to sleep without his warmth.

* * *

It was a hot and sticky night in Central. The summer days were hitting everyone hard and she had told her colonel that he didn't need to come over.

Of course, he ignored her and showed up on her doorstep like she hadn't said anything. He pestered her to let him into her bed and she agreed on the condition; he wasn't allowed to touch her. Yet, in the middle of the night she awoke to his arms around her and his exposed skin sticking to hers, making her immensely uncomfortable. How he was always so warm yet he was never too hot himself she would never understand. Perhaps he was born to control flames.

She wasn't feeling particularly generous that night, since she had specifically told him not to come over for this exact reason. She wriggled out of his grip, grimacing when her exposed skin peeled off from where it stuck to his. He had woken up but she didn't really care. He was still half asleep and he tried to put his arms back around her, but she stopped him and firmly told him to _no_.

He didn't quite understand so she made it clear by lightly shoving him away, not realizing how much he had pulled her towards the side of the bed, knocking him right off the side. He fell to the floor with a loud thud and he looked up at her bewilderedly. She hadn't meant to do that but she was too sweaty to care at that moment and decided to just leave him there.

Tonight, she didn't need his warmth.

* * *

It had been years since she correlated the image of the Flame Alchemist to the man lying in the bed before her.

They had both retired years ago, old age overwhelming them with each passing day. The minute they both retired he decided to make sure they not waste the rest of their years worrying about anything other than each other. They had lived a simple life until he had received a diagnosis that would make sure he was bedridden for the rest of his days.

She took care of him. She did everything in her power to make sure he was comfortable; she always told him that he was never a burden for her. It would never be a burden to help take care of the man she loved.

Today the fever was particularly tumultuous and she had called the doctor in a panic. He was burning up and she was crying but he still kept smiling for her sake. By the time the doctor had arrived and assessed the situation she knew by the look on his face that there was nothing he could do.

She sat by his side for as long as she could. He kept whispering _I love you _under his breath and each time he did it broke her heart even more but she was trying so hard not to shed any more tears. She had no real reason to be crying; they had changed the country and grown old together knowing they had accomplished his dreams. She had so many regrets but all the good things that had happened were almost enough to make up for had no reason to put him through more pain than he was already experiencing.

At last he was too weak to speak any longer and she cherished every moment she could still hear his hushed breaths, until all she was left with was the grim silence.

She held his hand until the warmth faded away.


End file.
